


with his gun turned on pop went a-creeping

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: American - Freeform, FatherFigure!Schlatt, Gen, Other, Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), but still violence on kids?? not cool man, i mean probably in this hes basically schlatts kid, idk - Freeform, schlatt owns a gun, shooting guns at the range w tubbo ref, wilbur thinks tubbo's a traitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: my daddy's got a gun my daddy's got a gun my daddy's got a gunyou better runmy daddy's got a gun my daddy's got a gun my daddy's got a gunyou better run.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 171
Collections: anonymous





	with his gun turned on pop went a-creeping

**Author's Note:**

> not really a vent but kinda bc i feel paranoid and i need to get it Out

Wilbur Soot had definitely snapped.

Tubbo was just a kid - a child soldier he helped train, among other typical child things - but he had still flared up Wilbur's greatly increasing paranoia. The own environment Wilbur created was to be his downfall, a life full of treachery and uncertainty on who to trust.

The child has crossed a couple of lines. Being seen with Schlatt was a given, considering he was on enemy lines, but what wasn't acceptable was his inquisitive trail of thoughts about their plans. Particularly how Schlatt could easily stop a majority of them. 

Wilbur sensed an attempt upon his own pride; of course, that was most likely Schlatt's doing. He was always one to taunt, even when faced with defeat. Wilbur could almost certainly hear the echo of Schlatt's cackles while his mind conjured images of flowing lava and ladders. 

Performing this theatrical game using Tubbo, however, was a different sort of blow to Wilbur's chest and psyche. Pain rippled through his skull and spine. The leader was getting old. 

"What did Schlatt promise you, Tubbo?" he decided to begin with, thoughts racing into the realm of strangling the boy's traitorous neck then and there. 

"Wilbur? What do you mean?" Tubbo's eyes told all. Wilbur swore they were filled with guilt and deceit. He couldn't even look at his former president anymore: what a pathetic kid! A beat passed and from a stalactite fell a single drop of water. It descended onto his head.

"What I mean is, Tubbo-" his teeth clenched, was this ever the same boy that was a secret asset during the war? "- Why did you choose to betray me?"

"Betray? Wilbur, I'd never do that to Tommy-" Another dab of water descended. Tommy. Tommy wasn't even the fucking President. Wilbur was. Only Wilbur was the true leader. No Schlatt, no Tommy, no Dream, no Technoblade, no Eret, no Quackity, and soon to be no more Tubbo. It was his L'manburg. No one else's. 

With that, Wilbur drew his longsword. 

Various things could be said about his yearning to kill once again. To play God. What was the purpose of elections and losing power, when you had the thrill of violence? Could anything else bring as much joy as stabbing the weak, those deserving of being purged?

No, he decided; lunging forward and overpowering the child. Shaking now, the boy didn't want to fight back. Huh! Wilbur thought, in times of weakness, unarmed, ready to die, he showed loyalty. Well, it was too late.

The leader pierced the youth's skin, dragging along, both a chore and a delight to see the wincing defeat of the fledgling's pure unadulterated pain. Wilbur lacerated the lad's hand, the flow of blood irregular yet plentiful. Wilbur's sword was ensanguined in glory and evidence of his revenge, letting the weapon exit then re-enter in a nearby section of flesh.

He pictured the young man attempting to hold a sword in his left hand, or a torch, the scar screaming in agony and reminding him of his misdeeds towards his leader.

Therefore, Wilbur cut deeper. 

A cacophony of wonderful screams and howls, all from the same individual, echoed through the cave walls. Squirming, scraping for some sort of escape, the boy struggled until he felt a kick from a heavy-booted male in the stomach from above.

Sobbing, Tubbo almost drowned out the sound of hacking from both sides of the walls. Almost. 

Shit.

That was the only issue of Tubbo's deep betrayal.  
Schlatt's insistence on pretending he cared for the pitiful thing, as he once feigned during the fight for his powe- independence.

From both sides, too, so Wilbur correctly assumed the obnoxious side piece of the 'president of Manburg' was present too. Unfortunately for him, he was right.

-

A shatter was all it took, with a netherite pickaxe, to reveal the scene before him. Schlatt half expected it to be a joke, the term he often used, a 'bit'. The curtain would fall eventually, and the audience would cheer.

It did not go that way, after waiting for a couple of seconds and staring at hi- a child, Tubbo, writhing beneath his enemy's sword, hands gashed open in a chasm of tissue and crimson life force.

Quackity was quick to whisk away the weeping boy and attempt to nurse him to health, at risk of Wilbur's wrath, nevertheless he knew even his habits of torture could not get past his deep-seated rivalry with Schlatt.

So, the eye contact continued - Schlatt patting in his business suit for something. Was it a sword? Wilbur was unaware. Maybe they'd duel, for old times' sake. Oh, how it would please him to see Schlatt's pale and lifeless corpse bleeding and soaking the stone below. They say you cannot draw blood from a stone, but maybe it would be possible after he kicked Schlatt to the ground and drained him of his ability to give his silly little speeches.

What was taking the man so long? Wilbur was busy, he had plans filled with TNT ambitions, and the torture of Schlatt had to happen immediately. 

Surprise. 

Wilbur's eyes widened, in a split-second his enemy had suddenly pointed a Benelli MP 95E at his head and fired. With no time to react, the titanium bullet soared through the cave and pierced his skull, finding its place amongst his violent thoughts and dying with them. The bullet lodged in his brain, Schlatt darted to the kid, stepping over a worthless body as he rushed to care for him with Quackity.

Wilbur was not worth any more of the time, the games. Going too far was to hurt Tubbo - and to do so would result in a quick and easy death. No time was to be wasted on a maniac like him, a wolf in sheep's clothing who manipulated a child and tortured him.

Schlatt decided the boy would be under his wing now, and maybe he wouldn't be such a tyrant anymore.


End file.
